


Shy Behind the Blind

by MariStellata



Category: SCP Foundation
Genre: Blind Character, F/M, Loneliness, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:42:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29503581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MariStellata/pseuds/MariStellata
Summary: Just figured Scp-096 Needs more love since they cry all the time, I know it’s not a original concept but I also kinda wanted to try my hand writing a character who can’t see.Features the scp Shy guy and a blind girl. Mostly just writing this for myself unless people show some interest in it. Wasn’t planning any smut.
Relationships: SCP-096 (SCP Foundation)/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	Shy Behind the Blind

It’s so lonely. No one who sees it can live so the facility has taken numerous precautions to try to keep it contained. The problem is people have a tendency to try to look them in the face, in way he is his own worst enemy, he can’t help his curiosity whenever someone new arrives. Nor can he help killing those who see him in photos and videos. But it’s a lonely life. 

The foundation has tried pairing it with other SCP’s to end its cursed existence but... between its own healing abilities...and anything he has been staged against... nothing has been successful. Sometimes he rends his own flesh just to feel something. Anything.His tendency to cover his face when he’s seen and cry out his loneliness has earned him a nickname: The Shy Guy. 

Class D personnel are selected from death row inmates, makes it easy to dispose of them without discretion and the staff don’t have to put innocent people in danger. At least that’s the idea. It’s rare to have D class members with disabilities however, of course there is the occasional wheelchair bound individuals but the scientist really wanted a blind person, just to test a hypothesis. Class Dpersonnel wouldn’t work for this but where could they get a test subject that wouldn’t arouse to much backlash if they mysteriously disappeared? 

Foster care sucks. You’ve spent your life bouncing from home to home, usually adults had this idea that they where some type of savior figure for taking in a problem child like you. They always filled a type: they loved helping the kid no one else wanted until they realized the amount of work that went into it. After all you’re blind. You had to use brail if you where going to read. And without someone holding on to help guide you in crowds you where easily overwhelmed. 

The worst things though where how sneaky adults thought they where. You may not can see but you could damn well hear them, all the arguments and whispered fights over how to discipline you, how you aren’t trying to learn your class work, how they hate taking you places because you’re attitude. It’s like they couldn’t imagine how loud everything was to you. They would constantly be trying to clean your hands because you needed to touch everything to get a feel for what something might be. Sometimes you broke things that seemed important or personal to your fostering families , on purpose; because why should they get to have things, you’ve never been able to keep anything bouncing from home to home.You’d actually managed to burn down one of the “homes” you’d been placed in. Served the other kids right for throwing things at you. Just because you couldn’t see did not mean you couldn’t feel things bounce against your hairor hear their twisted little snickers of delight. Three kids had been stuckin room by a oddly placed chair; wedged up so as to pin the door knob in place. The kids must have been playing a game on each other at the most inopportune time the fire marshal had stated.

These adults seemed different though. They weren’t trying to force affection, or baby you like the usual ones would. They smelled unusually sterile not that she would complain, that was better then the old woman who always seemed bathed in clashing floral scents. That had been a terrible experience, the old wretch had used perfume as a substitute for bathing at times and there always seemed to be breakable vasesand pots all over the house, how the woman had passed inspection you’d never know. 

Back to present you feel yourself held in place as someone prods your face, they say they are testing your eyes, you can’t help but giggle. They must not know about your blindness. You try to move your eyes in the direction you heard them talking from but you must have been a bit off causethey flick your ear and tell you to stop playing. WhichHURTS. Later they make you lay really still in a uncomfortable surface in some noisy whirring machine while they “run some test” on your brain. These adults are much different then you’re used to. 

Later you are ledby the hand through what sounds like a bunch of sliding doors and then pushed forward only to hear some doors whip shut behind you. Rude. They hadn’t given you a stick or anything to use to figure out your new surroundings.Hopefully you can piss these people off fast , they are definitely not people you want to stay with. 

“ hello, test subject. State your designated number please.” You hear a prim woman’s voice. “ Ummmm I’m (y/n). By designated number do you mean my social security?” You ask confused. These people should already have all that on record if they adopted you. Bunch of weirdos. 

There’s a long pause before a nasally male voice comes on and tells you not to worry about it and to start walking straight forward until you make contact with something they call 096; that’s a terrible name. You complain audibly about not having a cane but they don’t seem to care. Your starting to miss some of those shitty foster families you’d been with before at least they faked like they cared. These people weren’t even trying.You can hear crying coming from ahead steadily growing closer. You try to sweep a foot a bit in front of you with each step as you proceed in case there’s any thing on the floor, and eventually you bump something; that feels like a someone.

The sobs cut off and you hear the sound of skin brushing skin right in front of your face, “ah sorry about that. I didn’t see you there...” you chuckle darkly “probably because I can’t see. Are you0-9-6?” You hear a weak groan but don’t know what to make of it.You turn so you aren’t yelling right in this strangers face; they seem to be having a bad enough day as it is without you adding to it , “ YOU STILL WANT ME TO KEEP MOVING STRAIGHT?” You get no response. You grumble and reach out for the person in front of you, your fingers brush across something boney after a moment of fiddling you figure out it’s a rather large hand. The largest hand you’ve ever felt that is. Still they don’t speak. It’s as if they’re holding their breath for something to go wrong.As your hands trail up from the hand this persons arm seems to go on forever, they must be huge. Definitely not another kid like you now that you think on it.Thankfully the individual must be sitting down because you finally make it to their shoulder only to find they aren’t wearing a shirt. “Ummmm, I’m sorry there ... whatever you’re name is.I didn’t know you weren’t dressed.”You continue by whispering to them conspiratorially “ don’t be to embarrassed that was my bad I tend to touch to try to get to know people. If you’re nervous you can lead me to your face if you don’t mind.” You feel a hesitant brush of one of those large palms as they gently grasp you hand and guide you forward to their face.You slowly trace your fingers around, you feel somewhat damp streaks and you softly brush them away. This person seems to have fairly masculine facial features, a strong yet sturdy jawline, angular almost gaunt feeling cheek bones, they don’t seem to have any hair though, not even stubble. 

Well you’re not going to judge someone like this, this individual probably get picked on as much as you do and there’s no sense adding to that. You try to give a smile, though it feels a bit sad , you’re never really sure if you are doing it right but it’s the best you can do.“ can you not talk?” You can’t help asking.There’s a somewhat agreeable sounding grunt in response. Figures. They stick a blind girl with a mute boy. You feel fingers trail up to you face, his palms are big enough they feel like they wrap around your head completely. The touches are featherlight but they seem to be mapping out your face. Shit maybe this person is as blind as you. Wouldn’t that be perfect. The blind leading the blind.


End file.
